Chapter Text
The night had started like all the others the two had spent together. Syril would be waiting for Dedra outside the ISB building and the two would make their way to a restaurant. It was an even numbered evening, so Syril had selected where they ate. An enjoyable meal, a glass of wine, shared, followed by a light dessert. Tonight, they had changed things up a little bit when Syril suggested they go to a frozen bantha milk vendor near her apartment. She was almost proud of how slyly Syril had suggested the dessert location, closer to her apartment and the latest addition to their evenings together; time spent on her couch making out.
It had been years since she had been touched in such a way, not since she still resided in a kinderblock with a dozen other teenagers and not quite enough adult supervision. Now, however, she had no supervision and no worry that a care-taker would walk in, or worse another orphan. Since the addition of these sessions, each night had lasted longer and longer, and watching Syril leave her to return to his own place with his mother was getting harder. Speaking of which…
“Deeedra…” He moaned into her neck. “I think,” he paused. How he could be so bashful when she was rubbing up against his dick though their pants was a wonder. “I think we should move to your bedroom before too much longer.”
She froze. Her bed room. The room where her bed was. This was the logical progression, she knew what. Why didn’t she make arraignments for this? She stole a quick glance at her bed room door. It was firmly shut, as she did every morning when she left for the day.
Syril, of course, took her sudden pause and glance to the bed room the wrong way. “It’s okay, we don’t need to,” She sometimes thinks that Syril would walk across a bed of nails if she asked him to, he was so eager to please her. This might be his worst fear, upsetting her. “We don’t need to do anything else. This is fine.”
Dedra didn’t respond with words, but rather taking his face in her hands and leaned him to kiss him. “Not tonight.” She whispers. Syril takes this as a sign that he hasn’t over stepped his bounds with her and resumes his work of leaving marks on her collar bones.
It felt like hours later, but a check of her chrono revels he had only been over for an hour before Syril composes himself enough to walk out of her apartment without embarrassing himself. “Tomorrow then?” he asks as he walks towards the door. “It’ll be an odd numbered date, so your choice for dinner.” He smiles at her as the walk together to the exit. He steals one last kiss before she closes the door behind him.
Dedra allows herself a moment by the door to just stand there. She imagines Syril doing the same thing, thinking about the person on the other side of the door. But then she returns to the current issue facing her. She stalks right into her bed room, turns on the light and there it is. Her bed.
Her Race Car bed.
She had purchased the thing when she was first transferred to Investigation, and for the first time in her life she was not going to be living in dorm or military style housing. As a child there had been some holo program where the protagonist, a hawk-bat that wore sunglasses, fought crime in his swoop bike and then slept in his tree house in a race car bed. One of the few promises Dedra had kept to herself as she grew up was to one day own a race car bed. As she grew up she would remember the race car bed and how watching the program with the rest of her fellow kinderblock orphans was one of the few happy memories she had. It was an impulse purchase when she signed the lease on the apartment. And Dedra had no intention of letting anyone other than herself in her bed room, so there was nothing to be embarrassed by.
And then Syril happened.
She needed to buy a new bed, big enough for both of them she suspected. Before tomorrow.